The Long Road Home
by tetsu-girl
Summary: With Catherine's help, Mary realizes her new-found freedom and love with Conde are illusions and that she must return home to deal with the trauma she still carries as well as her broken marriage to Francis. [Post 2x15. Alternate 2x16.] (TW: deals with the lingering effects of Mary's rape)
1. Chapter 1

AN: How do you solve a problem like Mary-ala-Season2? Rather than the rape being used as a plot device to push the love triangle with Conde, I hope the Conde affair is part of the larger, and much more important, story of Mary dealing with her sexual assault. This is my version of how I'd like to see that developed and resolved. (I started this 5 days before 2x16, but I just finished it today. Please forgive me if anything sounds like it's copying the script; it's purely coincidental, I swear!)

* * *

_It had felt like freedom. A gasping breath of life-giving air after months of suffocation._

Mary was finally getting away from it all. Away from Francis' pleading eyes and crushing disappointment. Away from the ruins of their once-happy marriage. Away from the crowded halls of the cold castle. Away from the pressure, the pain, the memory. Leaving French Court meant leaving her cloistered life and her sadness behind. For her, it meant stepping out of the darkness and into the sun.

She rode with wild abandon across wide open fields, thrilling at the way her heart raced to the hoof beats of her galloping horse. The wind roaring in her ears blocked out everything else. There was just the rush of adventure, the blush of new love, and a lightness she thought she'd lost forever. But it had returned, and so would she. She would regain her strength, her passion, and her country. She would decide what was best for her and her people, and no one would dictate her life anymore. After twelve long years, she was returning to Scotland, where she belonged. At last, Mary was going home.

* * *

_It had seemed like freedom. But it was an illusion, a mirage that teased salvation but only made the maddening thirst worse._

"Are you happy?"

When Louis asked her this, Mary smiled and said, "I am," and in that moment she believed it was the truth. It had been the first truly good day since the attack. She had broken free of her bonds, and Louis had escaped with her. Noble, stalwart Louis, who loved and protected her and asked for nothing in return but her company. He did not require a royal heir or expect intimacy from her. He did not constantly remind her of every tragic mistake of the past year. Louis was just the present, and perhaps her future. A new chance at love and happiness.

And he did make her happy. Running away together, riding like the wind through the countryside, and now pretending to be a young noble couple renting a room at an inn for the night; it was all so exciting and new, flirtatious and fun. And when they lied down to sleep, and Louis respectfully gave her plenty of space, Mary felt safe and content.

But as night fell, the shadows returned. Or rather, they had never left. Every dark corner hid an assassin; every creak signaled danger. Louis was very patient, checking and double-checking the security of the room. He offered to watch over Mary, and she relaxed. Once she fell asleep, however, his close presence which had been comforting at first became terrifying. To her unconscious mind, the sound of a strange man breathing heavily, and the feel of a warm body she knew was not her husband lying beside her, instantly brought her back to that night, in that bedroom, with that man. The nightmare was always the same. No matter what she did to alter it, it always ended with the horror of her worst memory replayed.

Rough hands grabbed her arms. Mary, still half-asleep and blinded by panic, tried to fight back, thrashing wildly against the man in the dark, but he pinned her down. Distantly, she could hear someone saying her name in concern, and she called out for help, for Francis. She felt the man slacken his grip some, so she immediately wrenched her arm free to strike out at him with all her strength. The man gasped in surprise and pain and backed off. Mary gave him a hard kick that knocked him to the floor as she jumped out of the bed and ran to the other side of the small room, disoriented and alarmed by the unfamiliar surroundings. It was only then that Mary fully awoke, remembered where she was, and realized who her "attacker" was.

"Oh, my God, Louis! I thought you were-. I'm so sorry. Are you-?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing." Louis got up off the floor, wiping blood from his cracked lip. She had punched him in the face. To his credit, he did not seem angry at all, only worried about her well-being. "Are you alright, Mary?" He strode quickly to her, and Mary took a step back, instinctively flinching away from his outstretched hand. He froze and then slowly withdrew.

After an awkward few seconds, Mary explained, "It was simply a nightmare."

"I know. You were tossing and turning and shouting in your sleep. I tried to calm you, but..I'm afraid I only made it worse." When Mary didn't correct him, he continued, "You were asking for Francis."

Mary blushed but remained silent. She knew it was true. Deep in her heart, she still loved Francis, but that love had been tainted. They had promised to always be there to save one another, but his actions and secrecy had left her vulnerable and alone when she needed him most. While the brutality of the attack had caused her much physical pain and wounds that took some time to heal, it was the memory of the violation, the humiliation, the helplessness, that continuously haunted her. Just as the recurring nightmare kept the horror alive, it also kept the anguish of abandonment alive. That night, and every night since, Mary's heart had been crying out for Francis to save her. But he had not, and he could not, and that truth was devastating. It had broken Mary and her marriage. And even though she was gradually rebuilding herself, she wasn't sure she could rebuild her life with Francis.


	2. Chapter 2

_It had not been freedom. "Escape" had only led to a different path in the endless labyrinth of the abyss._

When a knock on the door broke the silence, they assumed it was the innkeeper coming to check on the racket. The last thing they expected to see was Queen Catherine in the doorway. "If you'll excuse us, Lord Conde, I need a word with my daughter-in-law." she said icily as she swept in.

Louis hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Mary, then seeing her nod, he left the two queens alone, shutting the door behind him.

Mary spoke first. "How did you find us?"

Catherine looked around the room distastefully. "Your former lady-in-waiting Greer appears to have made some new unsavory connections since her drop in station. A 'female escort' mentioned she saw a couple matching your description riding this way. Perhaps I'll recruit Greer to my Flying Squad of informants," she mused.

"Catherine," Mary huffed impatiently, "what are you doing here?"

Catherine scoffed and retorted, "I should be asking you that, though from the looks of things, that seems fairly obvious."

Mary took in the scene Catherine had walked into, with Mary and Louis disheveled in a single-bed room at a less-than-reputable inn, under false identities. "Nothing happened. It's not what you think."

Catherine arched her brow at her. "Oh? So you're not running off with your husband's cousin and putting the entire Valois line, your claim to the throne, as well as _your head_ at risk?"

Mary stood taller and squared her shoulders. "I'm going home to Scotland, with Conde as my traveling companion for protection. I don't expect you to understand."

"Good, because I don't." She pursed her lips. "I'm here because of Francis." At the sound of his name, the guilt that Mary had managed to suppress until then came back with a vengeance. "As soon as he heard you'd fled the castle, he wanted to go after you. But I warned him that pursuit would only fan the flames of court gossip and confirm that you were guilty of treason. So he asked me to bring you back home." She gave an ironic smirk. "I'm here to save you."

Mary frowned in annoyance. "I don't need saving. My people do. I've spent too long in France. I must return to lead them. This is what I-_they_ need right now."

"Oh, don't be so naive," she snapped. "Do you really think it wise to leave our protection for Scotland, rushing headlong into a Protestant uprising and so close to enemy territory where the English Queen Elizabeth would have you assassinated the minute you stepped off the ship? Do you honestly believe you would even reach Calais before being hunted down for betraying your king husband for a rival prince of the blood? You know better. You would lose your heads _and_ drag France into a war with both Scotland and Navarre and probably England too. And don't tell me that this schoolgirl crush with Conde is worth risking all that, or Francis' love."

Mary swallowed hard. "This isn't about Francis. It's about my birthright and responsibility as Queen of Scots." She began meekly, "I-I don't mean to hurt him-"

"Yes, you do." Catherine cut in. "You're punishing him for his hand in the attack."

"No," gasped Mary. "I would never do that. I know it wasn't his fault, not really, and I still care for him."

"You still love Francis. So why are you here with Conde and not at home with your husband?"

Mary sighed. "Love isn't always enough to save a marriage. You know this better than anyone, Catherine. Too much has happened. We can't go back." She looked down at her clasped hands, her gold wedding band glinting in the dim candlelight. "I can't be the girl he loved anymore... Sometimes, people fall out of love. Sometimes they find new love."

"Rubbish." Mary snapped her head back up. "I do not believe you could stop loving Francis so quickly, not after everything I saw you two go through." She narrowed her eyes. "No, you chose to run away from your troubles and used a loyal lapdog as an excuse. You're confusing the safety of your non-threatening friendship for new 'love,' and you're mistaking stubbornness and recklessness for bravery and fortitude. You'd rather hide away than stay and face your demons head-on, stay and fight _like a queen_, to repair your marriage to the man you love and do your duty to your countries." She took a step closer and sneered, "I thought you were smarter, stronger, _better_ than that."

Mary was left momentarily dumbstruck before outrage took over. "How dare you? You know what I've been through, what I've suffered."

"Yes, and I'm truly sorry," Catherine said sincerely. "After what happened to you, no one would blame you if you resented Francis, or even stopped loving him. But that doesn't give you the right to just walk away, desert France, and destroy the Valois dynasty. After we did everything we could to help you get through this ordeal-"

"You silenced me," Mary said harshly. "To protect your precious house."

"To protect you!" Catherine shouted, then lowered her voice again. "If word had gotten out that you had been raped, then with no heir, Francis would have been forced to annul your marriage. He could easily find another lady of royal blood to become his queen, but what would have happened to you after such a fall?"

She'd be a disgraced queen, Mary knew, an outcast with nowhere to turn.

"Francis respected your wishes and gave you all the time, support, and space you wanted."

Guilt made Mary's heart ache. "I know," she said quietly.

"He knew there was no guarantee that you would ever reconcile with him, but he stayed by your side."

"I asked him not to wait for me-" whispered Mary.

"And you threw his love and kindness back in his face." Catherine pushed on. "If you could not find it in yourself to love him as your husband again, then you owed it, to yourself, to him, to your peoples, to respect him as your fellow monarch and continue to rule together."

Mary breathed heavily, struggling to contain herself.

"He deserved that much at least. If you loved him at all."

"I know that!" Mary burst out with all the anger, frustration, and despair bottled within her. "But I-I just couldn't live like that anymore. I had to get away."

"To selfishly think of securing your own happiness." Catherine mercilessly provoked.

"And what is so wrong about that?" Mary cried, choked with emotion. "Tell me, what's wrong with wanting to feel free and safe and happy again?" Her eyes brimmed with tears she refused to shed.

Unexpectedly, Catherine's expression softened, as did her voice. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong with that, my dear. I understand why you left. After falling victim to circumstances outside your control, one is desperate to take back the reins and assert one's own will, and to stay far away from anything that could be a reminder of such a dark period." Mary could see she spoke from her own experience as her eyes grew distant for a moment before turning back to Mary. "But running off into the night on a suicide mission isn't the way. You don't need to march to war to prove your worth. You don't need a man to feel worthy of love. Self-worth is something you discover within, not out there." She sat down on the bed and gestured to Mary, waiting for her to join her. "No one expects you to go back to being the innocent young girl you once were. But they are expecting the noble, steadfast queen they know you to be." Mary closed her eyes and shook her head, convinced that was impossible. "You may not feel that way now, but," Catherine reached out and took Mary's hand, "I swear to you, someday soon, you will rise from the fires of this crucible, tempered like steel, harder, sharper, and _stronger_ than before."

Mary looked into the steely gaze of this hardened queen, who had been assaulted as a young woman as well and who then rose above it to become the most fearsome leader Mary had ever known, and she believed her. Catherine was tangible proof that Mary could overcome and be whole again, perhaps love again.

"Come back with me." Catherine said. "Not just because your alliance with France is the best protection for Scotland. Not even for Francis' sake. Go back for yourself. To prove to yourself that you are the same brave, righteous, compassionate queen you've always been. Don't run away. Take back control of your life."

Mary took a deep breath, gave a silent prayer, then nodded. Mary was going home. Not to the birth country she'd fantasized about, but the place where she'd built her life, where her heart truly lied.


	3. Chapter 3

_It was not freedom...yet. It was the path to freedom, the long road home._

Mary strode into French Court with as much poise and dignity as she could muster. The buzzing was louder and the looks more venomous than usual, but she ignored the swarm of "allies" and enemies. She knew what they were saying about her, and she didn't care. Only one person's opinion mattered: her husband's.

Francis stepped down from his throne the moment she was announced and held his arms aloft.

"Mary, welcome home," he greeted warmly. She couldn't speak. She realized she had been holding her breath, waiting to see his face. He seemed pleased to see her, though she knew he was hiding more beneath his public persona. "Mother, Cousin," he added as Catherine and Conde entered behind her. "You're all back much sooner than I expected. I trust the trade negotiations with Navarre were fruitful?"

Mary's mouth had gone dry, but Catherine didn't miss a beat and instantly provided, "Yes, I believe the concerned parties have come to a new understanding that will be beneficial to all."

Francis nodded and smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. Thank you all for taking care of this business while King Antoine and I were needed here." Mary couldn't bear to meet his gaze. They were covering for her indiscretion, saving her and Conde from ridicule as well as the gallows.

Francis turned to the man who had stolen away with his wife, but there was no malice there, only courtesy. "Thank you for escorting Queen Mary and the Queen Mother safely." He held out his hand.

Conde took it, cleared his throat, and said, "Ever your humble servant, Your Majesty. But if you'll excuse me, I must be off. My brother is sending me on another diplomatic mission, and I must prepare my ship." He bowed to Francis and Mary. "Your Majesties." Conde glanced one last time at Mary, his eyes full of regret, hers with apology, and then he was gone.

The crowd at Court hummed with speculation. Mary felt like she might break under the harsh scrutiny. Sensing her desire for a quick exit, Francis offered his arm and said, "Come, I'd like to discuss the terms of the new trade route."

Mary gratefully took his arm, and they left the throne room together, a show of solidarity that was not lost on anyone.

Francis led the way to the adjoining map room, and Mary found herself terribly anxious. She was eager to speak with him in private but also afraid of what he would have to say to her.

When the door closed behind them, Francis immediately withdrew his arm and stepped a respectful distance away. "I'm sorry, I know you don't want to be touched-"

"No, it's fine." Mary assured him, and was surprised herself at how true it was, how comfortable that human connection had felt. "I-in fact, it's more than fine." she muttered shyly with a small smile.

A glimmer of hope seemed to shine briefly in his eyes, but he maintained his reserved manner, like one might cautiously approach a trapped fawn, afraid of spooking it. "Well, I had to convince everyone that you had done nothing wrong."

Gratitude and guilt in equal measure filled Mary. "I know. Thank you for what you did. For me, and for Conde." She noticed a flicker of pain cross his face. "I know how it must look, but we _didn't_ do anything wrong, we just..rode out to the countryside..." she ended lamely. She wrung her hands, unsure of how to proceed. "Francis-"

"You don't have to explain." he said quietly. "I'm just relieved that my mother was able to get to you in time. If someone else had made the discovery, I wouldn't have been able to shield you. All that matters is that you're home safe, Mary."

Mary's breath caught at that. For so long, Francis' presence had only been a bitter reminder of the mistakes that had led to the attack. But when she heard him say her name now, the way he did when it was just the two of them, softly, reverently, lovingly, a thousand happy memories flashed through her mind and warmed her heart. Suddenly, the idea of ever leaving the man she loved was pure madness. _Oh, God, what have I done?_

Francis saw her watery eyes and trembling lip and asked with concern, "Mary, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

She shook her head. "How? How could you still care about me? Protect me? After what I said and did to you." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "How could you still love me?"

Francis was stunned for a moment then rushed to her, as if to embrace her, but he stopped abruptly at arm's length. Instead, he tentatively reached out to take her hand and met her gaze with his patient, kind, crystal blue eyes. "Mary," he said wonderingly, "it doesn't matter what you did. Nothing in this world could ever make me stop loving you."

At that, Mary broke down and rushed into Francis' arms.

* * *

AN: Sorry this is kind of short. It's actually the first half of the longer concluding chapter, and this seemed like the best place to split it. Next one is the last part.


	4. Chapter 4

_It was so close to freedom. Salvation within reach_.

"I'm so sorry," Mary said over and over again as she wept into his chest, clutching him for support.

Francis held her close but loosely. "It's alright," he murmured into her ear. "We'll figure something out. I can ask Conde to stay here as a member of my privy council."

Mary sniffed, confused by the suggestion. "What? Why?"

"I only want you to be happy, Mary. So if he makes you happy, then..."

Mary raised her head to see his stoic expression masking his hurt. "No, Francis, I-"

"Please," he interrupted. "Let me say this: I understand. I do. You blame me for what happened, as I blame myself. I hold no resentment, no judgment. The heart wants what the heart wants. Just know that mine will always belong to you...even if you've given yours to someone new."

"Francis, stop." She closed her eyes. His being wonderful only made the love and remorse more excruciating. "I haven't. My heart is where it's always been. I'm not in love with Conde."

His brow furrowed. "You're not?"

"No. As I explained to him last night, comfortable companionship isn't love, and neither is one-sided devotion. I didn't recognize it at the time, but I had taken advantage of Conde's feelings for me and used him to indulge my whims." She looked down, still feeling awful for unknowingly manipulating and hurting Conde. "I apologized to him, but I don't think we'll be seeing him at French Court again soon, if ever."

"And you're not heartbroken that you may never see him again?" asked Francis uncertainly.

She shook her head. "Only sad to lose a good friend who was there in my time of need. More so because I regret the way I mishandled our friendship."

Francis let out a short breath, and some of the tension left his posture. "Then why run away with him, if you didn't really love him?"

She shrugged ruefully. "For a brief moment, I thought I did. But now I realize I was just looking for a way to fill the hole in my heart." She gave a heavy sigh. It was time to give Francis an explanation. But would he forgive her? She gestured to the window seat, and they settled onto the cushioned bench.

"Do you remember how happy we were on our wedding day?" she asked, and they shared a wistful smile at the memory. But it soon faded as she said, "It feels like such a long time ago. The past few months, our life has become one tragedy after another. First with the loss of our child..." She placed her hand on her stomach, taking a second to wipe away fresh tears, and cleared her throat. "Then the strain on our marriage caused by Narcisse's blackmail, and finally the castle attack..."

"I'm so sorry, Mary." Francis said desperately, torment marring his face.

"No, I'm not blaming you, Francis," she said quickly. "Not anymore. But after it happened, I did. In my mind, it marked the end of us. Being with you was so painful, because I thought we could never again have the happiness we once shared. I couldn't be the girl you loved." Francis started to protest, but she raised a hand to let her finish. "Since that night, I've been lost in a haze of sadness. And it seemed the only thing that could take me out of it was Conde." Francis looked down in disappointment. She pressed on. "But it was only temporary, a crutch, not the cure. Here was this man, who never knew me as you did, but who loved me unconditionally, even as the damaged woman I'd become. There was no past to compare to or wallow in, no expectations. Just a new life with a caring, good man, someone like you, Francis. Only instead of the heartache I felt whenever I saw you, it was a respite from it, an easy escape. When I was with him, it felt like going back to the beginning of our story, Francis. The times when we only felt the highs, before the lows came. I realize now he was a kind of replacement for you. But you're irreplaceable to me." She leaned across and took his hand, comforted by the familiar warmth as he gently squeezed back, and delighting in the light that shone in his eyes.

"I thought leaving France, leaving you, meant standing on my own." Mary confessed. "I thought I was being strong and breaking free of everything that had been weighing me down, the politics, the pressure, the pain. But this castle was never my cage. My chains did not come from our marriage. I see this now. Because out there, I was just as trapped as ever, and I did not know how to get out. The shadows still lurked; the memories still haunted. The prison was within my mind, and the only way I would ever be free of it was if I stopped running and faced the darkness inside me."

Francis nodded, encouraging her to continue. She took a deep breath. "So I decided to come back. It took my leaving for me to understand that my place is here. My life, the one we built together, is here." She turned to look out the window at the castle grounds. "Oh God, Francis, I've been such a ridiculous fool. How could I have ever thought to leave the wonderful life I have and abandon everything I care about? Worst of all, I almost threw away our love, the most precious gift I've ever received." Her head bent down in humiliation. "I'm so ashamed, and infinitely sorry. I know I don't deserve it, but I beg for your forgiveness."

Slowly, Francis reached out to tip up her face. "There's nothing to forgive, Mary. You weren't yourself, and that's not your fault. You've been through so much these past months. I'm sorry I couldn't help you more."

"No, Francis, you were perfect, so patient and generous and understanding. This was just something I had to work through myself, to get to this point. I just wish I could have made these revelations without hurting you."

He shook his head. "If anyone should ask for forgiveness, it's me. Mary, I can't tell you how sorry I am that you had to pay for my sins. None of this would have happened if I hadn't killed my father and-"

"And if it weren't for my uncle poisoning Henry, you wouldn't have had to for the sake of France and your family. If I hadn't condemned Narcisse's son to death during the plague outbreak, you wouldn't have been targeted for blackmail in the first place. Lord Castleroy would have never accidentally funded religious extremists had it not been for his conversion to Protestantism after his daughter had been killed by Narcisse's son. And around and around it goes. I've gone over it in my head countless times, trying to find another person to hate, another reason to still be filled with such anger and sorrow. But only the monsters who attacked me are responsible for it, and they're dead. It's time I let go of that all-consuming grief and hatred."

"Still, I should have told you the truth about what I'd done and the blackmail."

Mary sighed. "Do I wish you had? Yes. Would it have changed anything? I don't know. We'll never know what might have gone different, but I do know that you were trying to protect me. Narcisse had enough evidence to accuse both of us of regicide, and you were afraid to involve or endanger me further. I said I would fight at your side, whatever the danger, even if it led to my death. You knew I meant it, because you know me better than anyone. You should have confided in me, but you trusted in my love for you, as I should have trusted in you."

"There are regrets on both sides." he said, then added wryly, "We're a sorry lot, aren't we?"

She gave a soft chuckle. "Yes, but it feels good to say it all out loud. And I'm done looking back. If I keep holding onto the sins of the past, there won't be room in my life for anything good in the future. And I want to focus on that future, with you."

Francis smiled and squeezed her hand again. "You don't know how relieved I am to hear that. But do you think you're ready to try again with me? I don't want to be another temporary solution. Are you sure that it's really me you want?"

"It is, I swear. _Always._" she said adamantly. She met his imploring gaze, willing him to feel her sincerity. "I love you, Francis. Now, more than ever. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I can't get through this without you."

He cupped her cheek in his hand, and she leaned into it. "I love you, Mary. I promise to do everything within my power to help you, whatever you need, whatever you ask."

"Thank you," she whispered. She turned her head to kiss his palm then looked back at him. "I realize we can't simply pick up where we left off months ago. But I very much hope that with time and hard work, we can rebuild what we had."

"We can." Francis said confidently. "We'll trust and heal each other. We'll fight and rule side by side again. And someday, we'll find our way back to that perfect happiness together."

Mary glowed with a renewed sense of hope. "There's nothing I want more." Then she leaned her head to rest on Francis' shoulder, taking in his scent, listening to the sound of his steady breathing and beating heart, relishing the feel of his arms around her once again. Fear and sadness melted away, and for the first time in so long, she was at peace. It was only in her husband's embrace that Mary felt truly safe and whole and happy. She was home.

_It was freedom. At long last_.

* * *

AN: I hope I stayed true to the characters and treated the serious subject matter with proper respect. And I hope you enjoyed my version of 2x16. Please leave a review with any thoughts or suggestions. Thanks for reading!


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